


Don't Lose Your Head

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Beast sex, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, Size Difference, Size Kink, Xenophilia, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8933587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: The Beast wants something from Belle, and she's not sure she wants to give it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oliveinthecloset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliveinthecloset/gifts).



Her life was over.

Outside of fiction, Belle had little taste for the dramatic. There was quite a difference between watching people's trials and tribulations from outside of a book and living through such huge struggles. Fiction was supposed to be harder than reality. But this... being imprisoned by a beast, forever. There were few words for the depth of what she'd gotten herself into, and all of them sounded like melodrama.

Her life was over. And she wasn't sure how to stop weeping.

Her new home tried to comfort and welcome her, in its own way. The castle's lively residents made sure she was fed, clothed, warm, entertained. But reality had cast a pall over her, its dark funeral shroud for her newly-murdered dreams clinging to her head and her heart. The castle could've burned around her, and she still would've been lost and cold in the dark.

And there was the Beast. She'd never seen anyone like him before—neither man nor animal, and filled with seething hatred. As she'd supped, and as Lumiere and Cogsworth took her on a tour, she'd heard talk of curses, of a prince's punishment. Was the Beast truly a man once, or had he been born an abomination? And would any abomination care enough about a wilted rose to keep it under glass?

A cruel, furry paw clamped around her wrist, and she was yanked to him. He roared at her, yelled at her, but she could hardly understand his words over the pounding of her heart. The pungent smell of his fur flooded her senses, and the hot fury of his breath blew tendrils of hair from around her face.

Belle turned away, clenching her eyes shut. Her stomach felt sick. She was going to die here, wasn't she? He was going to tear her apart from limb to limb like she was made of nothing, and she was powerless to stop him. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, dwarfing her smaller frame. He was too powerful, muscles like machines and claws like razors. And she belonged to him, as much his property as the rest of the castle's denizens.

She braced herself for death. Instead, he turned her head toward him with surprising gentleness, as though he cared if he slit open her face. "Are you untouched?" he asked.

"What?" Her eyes shot open, and her breath caught in her chest. Untouched? Surely he wasn't asking if... he didn't intend to _take_ her, did he?

Why did that place between her thighs go hot at the thought?

"Are you pure?" the Beast demanded. "Unsullied by a man's touch?"

"I understood you the first time," she shot back. The Beast's nostrils flared, and he snorted like a bull. Belle tried to ignore his ire. She'd understood his question perfectly. After her mother died, her father never shied from telling Belle the truth about the world. One of those truths was the existence of sex, and when it should happen. "And I'm not married."

"Then I shall take what is mine!" He hooked a sharp claw in the back of her dress and her underclothes, and the ripping fabric made a harsh sound as he tore through it with ease.

But this wouldn't be the first time Belle had resisted a frightening buffoon. The Beast might've been larger and more powerful than Gaston, but Belle still drew herself up and met the Beast's eyes, then firmly said, "No."

The Beast stopped short, an almost comical look of surprise on his face, and Belle's dress dropped down her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the burning heat of his body. "No?" he said. "Are you... challenging me?"

He sounded astonished. Had anyone ever challenged him like this before? The idea of being the first roused something secret in the depths of her belly, turned the frantic terror in her racing heart into something more tantalizing.

"And if I am?" she asked, and she pulled up the front of her dress, preserving her modesty again.

He growled, and shouted, "You trespassed in my castle!" as he released her from his bruising grasp. "You came into the West Wing!"

"And _you_ locked my father up," she snapped back. "My _father_ , a kind, old man who was just seeking shelter. And I'm supposed to fear and respect you after that?" Belle shook her head. "You're a monster and a coward."

He bent down, close to her face. Voice dangerously low, he asked, "Have you forgotten who you belong to?"

"Then stop threatening and _take_ me."

Belle should've regretted it as soon as she said it. The Beast was a monster, resembling a human in sentience only—and even if he were a man he'd still be a beast. But something had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging to be touched. If this was her life now, then it was going to be on her terms, and if he was determined to take her...

"Take me."

Desire and fear and revulsion warred inside her. Lying with a male who was neither her husband nor a human should have been unimaginable. But she'd ached for something new for so long. Letting him take her, wanting this fiend to _know_ her, was the newest and most different experience she could imagine.

Belle let go of her ruined clothing, head held high as she let the garments fall and catch on the curves of her hips. The air in the Beast's quarters was cold, and crawled over her skin like a living thing, but the space between them crackled with intensity. And though gooseflesh rose on her exposed skin, her blood was burning, alight with unfamiliar but obvious need.

The Beast stared at her, his mouth agape, then hesitantly reached for her again. She went to him, and let him tear her dress away with another swipe of a sharp claw, leaving her naked.

"Mine," he said, gruffly, snatching her up in his arms like she was weightless. Crying out in shock, Belle clutched at his mane, so tight he uttered a low growl. She flinched, but didn't let go.

It was almost comforting to be imprisoned in his hold as he stormed to his bedchamber. His warmth surrounded her, and his fur was soft as silk on her skin. Perhaps if she imagined hard enough, she could pretend she was safe in his embrace. But her nakedness allowed for no shield of delusion. His claws could tear through her tender body like butter, his substantial muscles crush her into dust. But they didn't, and she didn't think they would.

He dropped her onto his bed unceremoniously, and the voluminous softness of his mattress swallowed her whole. The smell of him was stronger here, the primal scent of man and creature more overwhelming than ever. It brought to life parts of her she never would've guessed existed, and she lied back and spread her legs wide, waiting for whatever came next with an eager body and mind.

What came next was his massive head between her thighs, his nose buried near her most private places. He inhaled her scent like a starving man, sending a rush of air over her wet skin that made her insides go tight and her sex even wetter. She gasped. It shouldn't feel good, she thought. He was a beast, and her captor. It should've felt unspeakably wrong. But the will of the mind didn't always govern the desires and responses of the flesh, and the flesh was begging for more.

More that came soon—an experimental lick, from a velvet-rough tongue. She moaned, and arched toward his mouth. The sensation was incredible. Strange, but incredible. The Beast let out a huff that sounded pleased, and he licked her again, and again, making her squirm and clench her fists in the sheets.

He stayed between her legs, dragging his wet, agile tongue along her folds, sending the most amazing sensations to her belly. Her hips bucked, wordlessly begging for more, and he gave it to her. She'd never imagined anything could feel like this, could wring these panting, shameless groans from her throat. Even her own attempts paled in comparison to this, to the relentless swipes of his tongue exploring her most sensitive skin.

An intensity rose in her core as she writhed beneath him, arched into him and pulled away when the sensation became too much. Her body burned hotter and hotter, clenched tighter and tighter, until she thought she might shatter into a billion pieces at the top of some tall and indescribable peak. Was this the feeling they called _la petite mort?_

His tongue slipped into her. She shattered, crested to the top of the peak and crashed down again and again. His tongue thrust in and out of her, stretching her open with exquisite torture as orgasm claimed more and more of her mind.

Far too soon, she came down. She sank into the mattress, trying to remember how to breathe. His tongue was getting almost unbearable, even when the fire came alive again and she climbed, whimpering. Her body was a wire, stretching tighter and tighter, getting closer to the limit again.

He pulled out of her, and Belle let out a sob at the emptiness. But he wasn't through with her yet. When her eyes met his, she found something dark in his gaze, something raw and unnameable, as obscene as her glistening fluids all over his mouth and his chin. Or maybe it did have a name—want. The basest form of want, the most primitive. Lust.

Through the haze of her own arousal, she was dimly aware of him shucking his trousers, baring himself to her. A fleeting thought went across her mind, _Why on earth does a beast need clothing?_ Then, she saw what was hiding underneath.

His member was long and thick, unnaturally so. She couldn't imagine it would fit inside her. Surely it would split her in half if he tried. But she wanted him to try. It shocked her how much she wanted him to try, and how hesitant he seemed now that he, too, was naked.

Belle reached between her legs, and she parted her nether lips, opening herself for him. The groan the Beast responded with was somewhere between agony and ecstasy. It made her feel powerful, to know that she could do that to a beast.

The Beast accepted her invitation, climbing atop her and slipping the bulging head of his member inside her, and oh, God, it was terrible and wonderful at once, incredibly painful and good, a stretch that overwhelmed her senses. She could feel him in every inch of her body, his presence in her too-tight entrance pulsing through her veins, his long low groan echoing in her ears. At least he seemed aware of his own size and strength. Slowly, he pushed in deeper, and she gasped silently at the painful pleasure, at the burning stretch of her passage. She needed him to stop. She needed him to keep going.

He didn't go much further, likely aware of how much smaller she was. Instead, he pulled back, then slid in again, slow and careful, thrusts shallow to him but almost too deep to her and gradually building in speed, until he found a fast, erratic rhythm that hit her in the best ways, pushing her closer to that wonderful edge and then tipping her over. She came apart around him, moaning, her body spasming, her sex clenching around him as relief rushed through her, until she was limp and dazed beneath him.

That brought him over. With one last roar, he tensed, and he spilled inside her, spurts of fluid filling her, filling her, filling her. His orgasm kept going, until her body could hold no more and his hot pulses leaked out between them, until he finally sagged and pulled his soft member out of her, then collapsed beside her, nearly bouncing her off the mattress.

For the longest time, the two of them stayed there, catching their breath. Belle didn't know what to do with herself. Already, her thighs ached, along with other throbbing parts. How she'd make it back to her quarters in this condition was a mystery she wasn't sure she wanted to solve.

She was going to be so sore in the morning—she already was. But what she didn't feel was shame. She suspected she should feel debased and dirty, embarrassed for allowing a beast to touch her like that. Instead, she felt exhausted—and a tiny bit proud, even.

She turned to the Beast, trying to figure out what to say to him. But he was asleep already, and soon, snores that rumbled like thunder began to come from him. She couldn't keep herself from laughing. A beast, snoring. Who would've guessed a beast would snore like a human?

However, he was still a beast. Belle sobered instantly, the lingering warmth inside her turning into a cold lump in her belly. He was still a beast, and she was still trapped here. She wasn't his guest. She was his prisoner. And next time he wanted her, she might not be so lucky.

Her old life was over. Once, she'd known the world around her—her father, the townsfolk who thought her odd, even that oaf Gaston. Here, she was traveling into the unknown, still as lost and alone in the dark as she'd been before entering the Beast's chambers. Forgetting that and trusting the Beast—even for a fleeting moment—would be unwise.

She needn't figuratively lose her head again. Next time, she might literally lose it.


End file.
